[she's still standing in the water, thinking about the lake, thinking about how many dreams have her swimming in it, under a bright, warm sun. it's still chilly, here, and shauna worries for a moment that she's going to pitch forward, fall into the water, through it and end up back in the snow. back in the hellish winter, starving and feeding and birthing and butchering. it feels so close, especially outside, especially here --

but jackie's voice, there, like a tether, like an anchor, and shauna's breath catches, hoarse, gulping, as she turns and meets her best friend's soft, warm eyes. she's warmer than the sun, standing there with her flower crown, waiting with a very un-jackie-like sort of hesitance. shauna melts like the snow had, smiling in the thaw of it and nodding.]

Your turn. Make a wish, that's what the tradition is. I did it, so -- you do it now. [there's still mud, dirt on her face from the hunt earlier, and shauna unknowingly rubs it over the barely-visible scar across the bridge of her nose.] I'll cover my ears if you don't want anyone to know what you wish for.